Kobayashi Maru

I don’t normally post videos, but I have to admit that I found this fairly amusing.

[youtube]AGHty_S0TU0[/youtube]

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So this weekend, Ferf and I were loaned the DVD The Secret. Very well produced I must say. It pounds home the fact that culturally we live in the post-Di Vinci Code era. (Has anyone coined that term yet? I could be on to something…I should trademark that or something.) Everywhere you look things are overtly or covertly referencing the Di Vinci Code. In fact, we all seem more open to the idea that great things have been hidden from us throughout history. We seem able to accept that there is some kind of HUGE global conspiracy theory that has remained hidden for centuries.I mean, there have always been conspiracy theories. Some are completely baseless and fraudulent, like the protocols of the elders of Zion (I hate to even link to that cause it’s so bad) to the aforementioned Da Vinci Code to the JFK assassination to the lunar landing…OH and how can I forget the most proliferated one: Roswell and Area 51!!!

Anyway…before we digress too far into whether or not JKF was shot on the moon or in a sound stage just north of Vegas by aliens who crash landed, I really should get back to the Secret. Which is not as wide spread as the media would have you think…turns out the Badger had never heard of the Secret. So, up North at least, it is still a secret.

Some of you might have heard of The Secret when it was called The Power of Positive Thinking. That’s where I heard about it. Also, when I was a kid the principal of the little private school that I attended was a HUGE fan of Zig Ziglar and his thought for the day motivation techniques. (Because motivation doesn’t last - but neither does bathing, that’s why you do it every day!!)

By the way, I think the only reason that Zig Ziglar is so freaking successful is because he looks like Mr. Rogers and everyone trusts Mr. Rogers. Look:

Honestly, who wouldn’t do exactly what Mr. Rogers told them to do? How can you say no to him? So Ziglar rode that to money and fame. You trust him implicitly and don’t even know why. It’s true. I swear.

Anyway, all these things and more have been packaged together and re-branded as the world’s biggest secret, and to be honest, they make it way more appealing now than it ever was. Zig’s got the Mr. Rogers thing going for him, but nothing else. And Norman Vincent Peal has long since faded from the collective conscious. But this “new” thing has really tapped into something with an ad campaign that makes you want more. I was actually leaning forward as I watched the trailer on-line. Turns out that I too am a child of the post-Di Vinci Code era. I saw the snips of film that suggested Templar Knights and something in me said, “ohh, those guys were/are hiding something for sure - even if Dan Brown stole the story from Holy Blood, Holy Grail.” The amazing this is that I realized that I am a skeptical person at heart anyways, and yet I was ready to give this thing some plausibility points just because I now sub-consciously think that important stuff could have been hidden for centuries from me and dang it I DESERVE TO KNOW THE FREAKIN’ SECRET!! So, I figured, what the heck, somebody loaned it to me, it’s Sunday night and Brothers and Sisters is a re-run so Ferf will watch it with me. (What else does one do after Desperate Housewives??)

So Ferf and I climbed into bed and turned on the TV and started watching the DVD. Again, the production alone is worth watching. The people they have presenting are a cross section of folks that you have nightmares about being seated at a dinner party with - even with the author of Chicken Soup for the Soul in the mix. There are a whole bunch of them with “entrepreneur” listed as their occupation. A couple of quantum physicists and one gentleman with a freakin alphabet of letters after his name and the title of “visionary”. At that point I had flashbacks to all the people I used to run across who called themselves bishops, prophets, and finally apostles. I bet all of them would have considered themselves “visionaries” too. Can you actually give yourself that title? Isn’t there some kind of rule on that. It’s like giving yourself a nickname. I don’t think you are allowed to do that. That or calling yourself a visionary is like euphemistically saying that you are unemployed.

Q. “So what do you do?”

A. “I’m a visionary”

Q. “Yes, but what is your source of income?”

A. “UHHH Well, I am kinda between visions right now…”

Anyway, the basic premise of this Secret is the Law of … don’t you love it when folks base their stuff on some heretofore never heard of “law”. How did this thing become a law? Did George W. sign it into law? Is it a new natural law that has somehow gone unnoticed forever? Note, it is not a theorem or an abstract that needs some quality lab time to prove its validity. Nope. It’s a law. Nice to start out with such concrete certainty isn’t it? Saves a HUGE amount of time and money on research and such. Just start as a law and you are good to go. Of course, then there is not a lot of upward mobility in your future, but then hey, who cares…you’re a law. Nobody gonna argue with you!

So, back to the secret. Which by the way, is a freaking secret! Hide your monitor or something. Geez, you want everybody to know this stuff!? Then what good will knowing it be?

So the whole thing is based on the LAW OF ATTRACTION. Which basically says only the pretty people get ahead in the world. I KID, I KID. The law of attraction says that if you think about good things good will come to you and if you think negative thoughts then negative things will happen to you. So, in the immortal words of Zig Ziglar (that sound so much cooler if you hear them through a crackly school intercom system), no more stinkin’ thinkin’!! (then imagine a small women’s chorus singing “That’s Zig Ziglar’s thought for the day” through the same intercom. WOO HOO - Mr. Palmquist still lives on in the fuzzy memories of all of us who had to sit through that every day with a straight face in homeroom)

So if you imagine me being a millionaire everyday for like 2 minutes for a month, I should become a millionaire. I am up for the challenge if you are! Let’s all do it! Go ahead, close your eyes…no wait, that makes reading much to difficult. Read ahead, get the gist, and then close your eyes. Repeat in your mind over and over: “Tex is a millionaire. That dude deserves a million dollars. The universe should conspire to drop a call $1mill in his mailbox. He could do great things with a million dollars. He would seriously make a difference in the world with a MILLION DOLLARS! Seriously GIVE THE DUDE A FREAKING MILLION AND GET ON WITH IT!!”

If you do that every day for a month, I will pledge to keep you fully abreast on how that works out. I think we can do this! I believe we can do this together! Just put your hand over mine on the screen and say it with me…

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Life in a house where the estrogen to testosterone ration is 2 to 1 can sometimes be difficult. Or maybe it’s that sometimes it’s not difficult. Either way really. In the last 24 hours however, it has been quite amusing.

(To be honest, I do think that I have the recipe for a hilarious TV show. Take a house, put two females from the Mallone bloodline in it, and hilarity ensues. I have had the opportunity to study this scenario twice now - once with Ferf and Merf, and now with Ferf and Muppet - both times, same results. So it is replicable in the lab.)

But back to the story. Last night Ferf invited a HUGE number of women over to the new house for a Pampered Chef party. She swears that this was a house warming thing and that she absolutely loves pampered chef. Personally, I think this was a complete ruse. By having the poor lady come over to schlep her products, Ferf basically got free catering. Sure this lady might have made some money on the party, and hey, we got some free stuff for hosting, but let’s be honest. You invite a crap load of people over to your house and they simply expect to get fed, and Ferf don’t like to cook on the best of occasions. This was the perfect facade for her. Pampered Chef = camouflaged exploitation = free catering (all while being win/win - God my wife is a genius!!)

Anyway, I planned to get the heck out of dodge that night. That is WAY to much estrogen and I have no idea how long it takes for that many women to sync up cycles - and that could be a very bad place for a man to be. But before I left, I had to feed the Muppet and myself. Now at the beginning of the week, Ferf had purchased a number of “not for the husband” food and beverage items that were stored in the fridge. Every man would back me on this when I say, “you cannot put food in the fridge AND call it off limits at the same time” - this actually breaks certain laws of nature that God himself established a long time ago. However, much to my own personal shock, I was able to leave said consumables alone for the entire week. But on that day, I did request a single can of Coke for my personal enjoyment at my dinner. Ferf, being equitably amazed at my week long self-restraint, relented and even offered to bring said canned drink to me at the table. (Now, one important side note for context, Ferf had spent the morning getting her nails done for the pampered chef consultant exploitation party. AND she had purchased the trendy new box of cokes that doubles as a fridge dispenser.

So our formula is thus: 1 Ferf + 1 recent manicure + unopened fridge pack of coke = ?? Ferf was completely in a quandary over this situation, but confident that she need not ask anything more of me that day (like coming an opening the case for her). No, she put her university and law school trained gray matter to work on solving this mystifying dilemma. Quickly, and with no outside input, she concluded that she needed the right tool for the job. And as a man, I applaud that line of thinking. She again assessed the situation, seeing a paper box that had been semi-perforated and deduced that the correct instrument would be a utensil - more specifically, a knife. And in the same vein of thought that brought us such inspired quotes as “if a little is good, a lot must be great”, she figured, if a butter knife would work ok, then a Cutco carving knife would work even more better. I say that she thought with such poor English based solely on the observable indications that she was obviously not thinking clearly. Because evidently, based on empirical evidence and not personal testimony, she believed the proper way to begin the surgical procedure of cutting pre-cut paper was with a Samurai-style killing thrust. Which in her mind looked something like this:

Needless to say, that the unarmed cardboard box was quickly and efficiently eviscerated, but not before sacrificing one of its own in a desperate attempt to mark its attacker for easy identification by the police later. Ferf was completely covered in the syrupy blood of an innocent coke. (To be blunt, it was a thoughtless thing to do, because she almost killed me - I nearly choked on my food when I started laughing. She really should be more careful.)  After she got cleaned up and brought me a different, unharmed but completely terrified and emotionally scarred can of coke, I cocked my head as if listening to some far away sound and said, “Wait, what IS that? I think that is the horn of the Maru…it’s coming into port!” To which the Muppet said “yeah daddy…hooooonk!” And Ferf promptly laughed and coughed water out her nose. Yeah, that was a good day.

Then this morning, the Muppet was up early and she came into our bedroom and asked for a glass of water. Being the stellar parents we are, Ferf said, “give us 2 minutes and Daddy will get up and get you some water.” She said okay and wandered off. About a minute later I hear this strange sound like a melon being dropped on the floor - which is weird because we have no melons in the house. So I perked up my ears like a dog and listened harder. Sure enough I heard it again - this time closer. Then again, even closer - like it was coming down the hall. Only now it was accompanied by the slightest grunt as one might hear from a 2 year old. About that time I hear the Muppet say, “COME ON YOU!” Then the thunk. Then I hear her say, “I AM STRONG” followed by the thunk. And that’s when I see a (thankfully) unopened gallon of milk roll into my line of sight. I jumped up and said, “Muppet what are you doing!?” And she picks up the milk, carries it to me on the bed and says with the utmost sincerity, “Daddy, can I have a glass of milk while I am waiting for my water?”

And that, my friends, is how we know that there is truly a genetic chain that can indeed be traced back up parental lines proving our lineage beyond all shadow of a doubt, and why a 2 to 1 estrogen to testosterone ratio can be amusing if you are patient and have a sense of humor.

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So Ferf and I scooted out to Vancouver for the weekend to celebrate the aforementioned anniversary. We stayed with dear friends Q-Tip and..well, shucks she really doesn’t have a nickname. I suppose I could just give her one. I should, since while I was there I borrowed her computer only to find that she has every freakin blog in the world tagged and favorited EXCEPT mine!!! So I am officially taking suggestions for nicknames for Q-Tip’s wife.

Anyway, on the way down Ferf and I chatted about the previous 9 years of wedded bliss and did our annual AAR. And yeah, we really do an after action review of our marriage at the end of each year. It is a great thing to do. Formally speaking, an AAR does not have to be performed at the end of a project or activity or marriage. Rather, it can be performed after each identifiable event within a project or major activity, thus becoming a live learning process.

The AAR is a semi-formal discussion that includes the participants and focuses directly on the tasks and goals. It is not a critique. In fact, it has several advantages over a critique:

• It does not judge success or failure.
• It attempts to discover why things happened.
• It focuses directly on the tasks and goals that were to be accomplished.
• It encourages you to surface important lessons in the discussion.

Each year we look at specific things that we want to do better in our marriage and in our relationship. For example, last year my goal was to be a better listener. Historically when Ferf comes to me with something to talk about, by the time she has finished going over the broad strokes, I am 90% finished formulating the best way to “fix” it in my mind. She says that this means I am not really listening. She says that she is not necessarily looking for a solution. She says sometimes she just wants to talk about something and the process of talking it out to someone (where they sit and listen and do not talk) is exaclt what she needs to come to internal realizations.

To me that sounds like a bunch of hooey. Seriously, who doesn’t want a solution, plan of action and 3 measurable benchmarks to ensure completion?? That’s what men are for after all. Women get into trouble…err, I mean tell us about situations and we men steamroll over anything in our way (including them) to fix it discuss favorable options. It is a beautiful dance when done correctly.

Whatever I might have thought (or still think for that matter) Ferf made it crystal clear to me last year that I might want to adapt to a new paradigm. A paradigm that includes shutting up, turning off the computer, cell phone, TV, radio, Ipod, putting down the book, magazine, video game, AND facing her with eye contact and a sweet, yet strong show of facial concern ALL THE WHILE actively listening without consciously thinking about solutions, answers, fixes, work-arounds, explanations, resolutions or clarifications AND even when she stops to take a breath or collect her thoughts to keep my extensive verbal skills to myself. That was my goal for year 9. Not a small thing I hasten to admit.

BUT I NAILED IT!!! For all you guys who want to know how to do it - since, seriously, how-to’s are what we thrive on - I give you the short version. When your wife (or significant other, we don’t judge here) comes to you with what we might call a “problem”, put down your beer, turn off the game (this is important - muting it DOES NOT COUNT!), turn towards her, at least appear to listen to whatever she is saying, and when she is done (to be sure, you must count to at least 30 while making sympathetic eye contact) get up, walk over to her, give her a big hug and say the following:

Well, I don’t know about all of that. But what I do know is that I love you and I believe in you.

Wait a reasonable amount of time…for baseball fans, this is at least half an inning (even if your team is at bat)…for football fans, this is at least until the next commercial break…and for hockey fans, it comes to right around 3 shift changes. Going longer might get you more bonus points, but honestly at this point you have so freaking many that it really doesn’t matter. Then end it by saying, “Is there anything I can do for you?” If she says no, then hey, great. Do a bathroom run so as not to appear eager, and then go on about watching the game. If she says yes, then even better - she is giving permission to release the proverbial hounds and do what you do best - FIX SHITE!!!!

Holy…I have seriously digressed. My intent was to regale you with stories of debauchery fun and traditionl family values on an Easter/anniversary weekend. So, onto Vancouver…

Saturday morning found all four of us up at the proverbial butt crack of dawn, dragging our sorry arses down to the River Rock Casino. Mainly because, if you want a seat in the large No Limit Texas Hold’em Tourney, then you had best be in line early. So we go there a full couple of hours prior to the start of the tournament and sat around pretending not to pay attention to everyone who walked into the room and surreptitiously sneaking furtive glances to determine by outward appearance alone who would be the best players in the room. Unfortunately, a $35 buy-in is not enough to tempt the Johnny Chan’s and Texas Dolly’s of the world to make the trip to Vancouver, so the facial recognition software that I recently installed in my brain was of absolutely no use to me.

Once the game began I realized that this is simply different from a home game. At a home game I like to talk trash and such. Here I was as quiet as mouse submerged in three feet of wet cement. I don’t think I said a dozen words all day. Q-tip’s wife (still seeking nickname) was the first of our crew out. (Heh,I say crew - like we were the freakin MIT casino team) Surprisingly, Q-tip was the next one out. At the first break Ferf was the stinking chip leader at the table, and since I was “lucky” enough to have been moved to this table -I was just about the short stack. By the break, the original 78 plyers had been whittled down to around 45. And shortly after the break, that number began to shrink rapidly. Next thing I know we are at the last two tables and Ferf and I are both still in. Ferf ended the day in 13th place after a bad beat on the river knocked her out. So somehow, amzingly, I am sitting at the table when they announce the final table of 10. Of course only the top 8 cash in the money and I am severly short stacked and the blinds are looking more like a Canadian income tax scale. I figured that I was toast pretty quick because in the first 5 hands, I was not dealt a card larger than a 7 and I coulnd’t even bluff because pot odds would require the bigger stacks to call me. So I kept my head down, finished off about 12 cups of ice and got bursitis in my wrist from folding so many hands. In the mean time a few of the people foolishly went all in and I found myself in the money - pretty certain that 7th place was my destiny. Then the strangest thing happened. The heavens opened, God laughed and 4 people went all-in on one hand. The largest chip stack won with a set of Kings (knocking out pocket 8’s, pocket 9’s AND pocket rockets). Suddenly I was sitting in 4th place!!! To make it better, the guy next to me then goes all-in, chip leader whips him and I am in 3rd place and barely able to cover the big blind that I am required to bet. Needless to say, my dinky hand was dominated and I found myself being given directions over to the money pit. $274 later, I walked out dazed and confused that I had finished in 3rd place. WOO HOO!!!! Drinks on me!

That being the case, we made the trip that evening down to Gastown and found a little pub called the Irish Heather. The best thing though…if you walk through the corrodors of the place, past the back seating area, through the back toilet area, out a back door and across a hidden alley, you will find a red door. Behind that red door is the Shebeen Whisky House. These guys have a selection of over 150 Scotch, whisky, and bourbons. Should you ever find yourself there, and should you happen to have won a large sum of cash at a poker tournament on that day, then let me save you the confusion of searching for the right drink. Just order yourself a Johnny Blue and let the nectar of the gods be served to you in a little glass. Here’s the place, in case you get lost looking for it.

The Johnny Walker Blue is kept in the middle column on the third shelf down from the top. (You know, FYI)

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Happy Anniversary to Ferf and me! 7,8, 9 years ago today I closed the best deal of my life!  Well, 9 depending on how you look at it.  Since we got married in the States and now live in Canada, the exchange rate makes it 10 years.  Of course, we do use metric time up here…so I am completely confused about that…

It’s been better than I could ever have imagined (better than most imagined actually since I think the last year in the How long will it last pool that her family had going was 6 years…btw, since no one won shouldn’t Ferf and I get all the money!?)

I thought I should point out to all the unmarried readers out there the significance of the date upon which I was married. The month and the day match. Makes for much easier remembering! Not that anniversaries are hard to remember…I’m just sayin‘.

SO here’s to Ferf and 9 years that have spanned better and worse, richer and poorer and sickness and health - we’ve covered them all and are better for it. And I am more in love with you now than I was ever before - AND now I think about more than just trying to get in your pants!

AHHJUU my wifey!

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Free-for-all is a term generally used to describe chaos. And chaos is a word one could use to describe much of Delhi. But at the Gurdwara Bangla Sahib kitchen, a Sikh temple which serves meals to around 10,000 people every single day, there’s not a trace of chaos. And the food is free. For all.

http://www.worldchanging.com/archives/006211.html

After you read that story (and yeah, you really need to read it - of course it is kinda long, so crack open a cold one and sit down when you have a good bit of time) think on this question that I have been asked over a dozen times by folks who have read it: Why don’t we do that over here?

It’s a difficult question to answer without sounding like a complete smartass. My first responses were (in no particular order):

1. The health department would shut it down in less than a day
2. Nowhere can you get that many consistent volunteers in North America
3. Nowhere in North America could you get that kind of selfless cooperation on such a massive scale for that long - AND with no end date!
4. No church with a bulding large enough would allow it
1. No food/drink policy in the sanctuary
2. The budget can’t support that many carpet cleanings
3. Too great a risk of our expensive church stuff getting stolen or vandalized
4. Insurance companies would NEVER cover it
5. Too great a chance that the lingering smell of humanity would offend wealthy tithers (and probably drive them to a competing church - one that split off from us years ago over some theological minutae that noone now remembers, but dangit - God loves us more!)
6. The loitering outside breaks bylaws
7. The lineup outside interrupts the traffic pattern flow in the parking lot and costs us sales in our bookstore/gym/basketball courts/bowling alley/restaurant/random other superfluous thing mega churches have now-a-days
8. Ruins planned capital campaign becuase major donors afraid we’d just build a larger soup kitchen
5. Buisness community would campaign against it being anywhere near them
6. Surrounding community would join together in world’s largest NIMBY rally
7. Numbers 5 and 6 would force organizations and businesses that donate the food to reconsider their choice and limit supply
8. Others would see success of the project but would open their own (most probably somewhere very close) because they feel they could do better by:
1. Adding a religious portion that jives with their particular beliefs
2. Subtracting anything religious as it is offensive and non-PC
3. Focus it more on a particular ethnic / racial / cultural / other identity group that they are a part of (because only my particular ethnic / racial / cultural / other identity group can really know how to meet the needs of my particular ethnic / racial / cultural / other identity group)
4. Providing the exact same services but using professional staff and creating one of the largest not-for-profit corporations in North America
5. Adding a new Itinerant Ministry wing to it whereby staff tour around North America telling others how great a ministry this is and collecting huge tithe dollars to keep it functioning
6. Adding a new Conference Ministry to it whereby others from around the counrty could come spend the weekend hearing stories and testimonies about the work and being inspired just enough to go home and tell others about it who will also then come, but not actually start one in their own community - however tape and video sales force creation of a separate bookstore - which takes 7,000 sqft of usable space away from the actual ministry, but brings in huge sums of money to pay the staff hired at #4

See, I can actually make lists of smart ass answers that include sub-sections! It’s like hitting off a tee - seriously. But the question, unfortunately, is serious as well. Aside from the frustrating truth that lies behind everyone of the answers I listed above - because to be a really good smartass one MUST basically be inappropriately pointing out truths (half/partial or otherwise) - we simply don’t do this over here on this kind of scale. I can say this with some level of expertise as I have spent the last 9 years working in this arena both overseas and domestically. In a culture and community and country (Canada and America - I’m dual I can strike at both) where we have so much affluence - why do we not (as compared to this story specifically):

Take our religious beliefs (whatever they may be) as seriously?

Care as much for our fellow man/woman/family?

Make the time to give to others with such frequency and consistency?

Simply stop judging?

Seriously, why DON’T we do this over here?

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